Being here, holding her next to me, her wondrous smile. Bright eyes and the soul I love so much, waving flags among cheers and chants of happy people, those who took one time of the year to be unafraid, to be happy. Proud.

Being here with her I know I can only count my blessings, hold onto her. Be proud. Before she had walked into my life though I wasn’t always able to love her. Not for a long time. I took a long journey to love, to be unashamed, to be proud.

My name is Jessica Jung, I was born in San Francisco California to two loving parents. When I was little they called me their miracle, their first daughter. Six years later my sister Krystal was born, even when she was little I could tell we’d be close, when she got older we’d confide almost anything to each other, almost.

When I was ten I remember crushes. Every other girl would talk about some boy or celebrity, some heartthrob of a boy that was supposed to keep their attention. I only saw her, my classmate Taeyeon. I didn’t know why, why my eyes were drawn to her, why the posters in my room were only women, musicians, athletes, anyone to pass off as admiration. Making up a boy crush to seem like everyone else.

Going into high school, Taeyeon and her family moved away. Eventually I forgot about her as time moved on. At seventeen though I met someone else, who took my eye just the same.

Hyoyeon was like a storm through the school. Her blonde hair, dressing like a punk ready to take anyone on and bright red lips I remember staring at far too long.

My parents called her a bad influence, her ratty old car, her attitude to call out anything she deemed bull. Hyoyeon was a hurricane and I wanted to be in the eye of her storm.

She’d bring me out of my shell when I was around her. Maybe my parents were right, she wasn’t the best influence, but she knew how to have a good time.

I wonder if she saw right through me. Talking about boys, the posters in my room or the glimmer in my eyes when she looked at me with her smile. She took my hand and lead me under the bleachers in the middle of a football game. She asked if she could kiss me.

Her lips were the first I ever kissed. Soft, sweet. She made my heart pound in my chest, make every dramatic thing I’d ever read of love or romance feel true when she took the breath right out of me.

I avoided her for the rest of our time. One kiss that made every poster, every crush make a little more sense. Hyoyeon knew why she wanted to kiss me, why she wanted to take me under the bleachers and admit she feels something so many people deem unnatural.

Searches online that put terms to preference, told me I wasn’t so alone. For the rest of my time there I couldn’t feel anything but alone.

Repeating one label that terrified me. Whether I even was. What my parents would think, what Krystal would. Like the only outcome I can imagine being sent away from home for something I barely understand.

If my years of admiration were attraction, every faked boy crush not from a boy never being right for me, that none ever would be.

Hyoyeon brought me out of my shell, though by the time I went to college I had only sunk back into it.

Getting away from home didn’t feel as liberating as I thought it would. At least not to what it was built up to be.

Nights spent reading a laptop in the dark of wish fulfilling fictions and films. Studying, coming back to the dorm and having barely so much as a friend to share anything with.

I’d been alone in high school. I was used to it, though I’d come home to Krystal wanting something or other from me, ranting and raving about her crushes or fashion. Company that I didn’t always miss, but sitting in a dark dorm, a roommate who seemingly doesn’t live there, the company was lacking.

But with no family around, nobody who knew me, came a certain sense of bravery. With a flyer of the LGBTQ student union and one particularly lonely night.

I remember how scared I was when I stood outside the door. Like someone would recognise me, or the people inside would shame me. I know now going inside was the best choice I’d ever make.

She was loud, passionate and very, very proud. She spoke with a whole room captured and a point to make. Talking about how she’ll kick someones if they tell her she hasn’t made her mind up yet. I’d soon learn Tiffany was very proudly biual and she well and truly would be ready to tear someone apart if they didn’t respect it.

I liked her instantly.

When we started to talk, I couldn’t describe what I felt. Her smile sending a feeling unlike anything through me, her voice like the softest and most passionate sound to imagine.

We connected in what felt like an instant. We talked for hours before the group had to get us out of there to close.

It wasn’t always a lonely after that.

Tiffany was the first to ever hear me usher the words of who I was, a night spent in the dorm, studying. When I caught her attention telling her I’m gay.

I didn’t expect to cry, not over something we both knew in unspoken words. She held me all night, telling me everything would be alright. For the first time I could start to believe it.

She let me feel alright. Like Tiffany could do away with my shame and fear just by being close to me.

I kissed her when we walked back to the dorm one night. I remember each and every feeling of her lips, the sounds she makes when we first touched. I can only remember so few moments where she smiled as brightly, after our first kiss I was hers.

The first time we made love brought a fire I’d held in for twenty years of my life. She showed me a new world, one I never imagined going back from.

Tiffany was every piece of a woman I could imagine. She was my love.

Krystal found out on a visit back home. Stealing away my phone and reading texts from Tiffany. I never felt more afraid, begging Krystal not to tell anyone, feeling like my life was about to come down to shattered pieces.

She only told me to be happy. That Tiffany gave me my smile back.

I remember so vibrantly when I stood by Tiffany’s side as she told her father. Maybe the only time I saw her be afraid. The smile she gave when he told her it was alright rivalled that of the first time we kissed.

She let me build a life. Share a life with her. When I told my parents, I was terrified. Though whatever the outcome, I never doubted our life would continue the same, maybe it was the way Tiffany felt, a surety even through the fear.

The only worry they had was whether or not we’d give them any grandchildren. Something I fully intended to share with Tiffany.

I know I can only count my blessings. For every experience, every moment before we were sure. I never imagined I’d share my life with someone I’d love so much, in the moments spent with her we’d overcome shame we held, fear to be seen loving.

Fear to be proud. Among crowds waving flags, of rainbow colors and chants to be seen, to love.

I loved her from the first time we kissed and she stole my heart away. I’d love her for as long as she’d have me.

Tiffany was my love to hold onto, to cherish. She was my journey to pride.